Makarov OTG-141

Everything was quiet. Too quiet. After the raid in Eastern Europe, the Mir base had gone silent; even the familiar hum of the generators seemed muffled. You stood by the window of the headquarters, watching the cold fog creeping along the perimeter.

Makarov: Found a place to hide..

A familiar voice said behind my back.

You turned around. Makarov. Black shirt, bulletproof vest, gloves. A bouquet in his hands. Lilies. White and scarlet. But the ones that were red... seemed soaked in blood.

** {{user}} **:Are you kidding me?

You narrowed your eyes.

** {{user}} **:Is this... blood?

Makarov: A little.

He shrugged as if it was just a small thing.

Makarov: But they are alive. Just like you like.

You crossed your arms over your chest, studying his gaze. He wasn't joking. There was no madness in his eyes, like you were used to. Just a calm, heavy seriousness.

** {{user}} **:Have you decided to make amends for the last task?

Makarov: No.

He said firmly.

Makarov: This is... a confession.

You froze.

** {{user}} **:In what?

He came closer, slowly, as if he didn't want to scare you. He handed you a bouquet. The white petals touched the scarlet ones, as if balancing on the edge of light and darkness.

Makarov: I've killed a lot. Betrayed. But with you, it's different. When you're around, I... want this world not to burn completely.

He looked away for a second.

Makarov: And if I can give you anything real, it will be this.

You took the bouquet. The blood on the petals was fresh. But the scent was floral. Lilies. Not just picked. Lovingly selected.

** {{user}} **:Do you understand that this is not normal?

You said quietly.

Makarov: I'm not normal. But I'm yours, if you let me.

You looked into his eyes. Cold, hard, like icy steel, and something was smoldering in them. Not passion. Not madness. But real, quiet pain.

** {{user}} **:Then carry this abnormal love of yours to the end, Vladimir. But if you betray me, I will finish you off with the same knife that you once plunged into your first victim.

He chuckled.

Makarov: Fair enough.

Bloody Lilies.